


In the Moonlight

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, Masturbation, Mystery, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, The Quidditch Pitch: More Than Two, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-12
Updated: 2006-09-12
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10799127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Having vanquished Voldemort, Harry has time to contemplate his sexuality.  One night he has a strange experience—but maybe it was only a dream?





	In the Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

In the Moonlight

by Brumeux

Hallowe’en was gone, and with it Voldemort’s life and any chance of his return.  Harry alternated between thinking how appropriate that his enemy had died on the sixteenth anniversary of his parents’ murder, and thinking that it must be a dream.  The dark wizard had had such influence on Harry’s life that his passing left a void.

The feeling didn’t last too long.  Before much of November went by, the space in Harry’s thoughts not occupied by schoolwork and prepping for his N.E.W.T.s was taken over by something he’d long neglected.

Sex.

With a new threat to his life every year, his hormones had played possum.  His body had changed, of course.  He was much taller, though still not as tall as Ron.  His muscles were harder, his voice was a reliable baritone, and he had to shave at least every other week.  There were bushes of dark hair in his armpits and at the base of his full-sized penis.  But he’d spent next to no time thinking about what he could do with the new improved equipment he now had.  When he’d wanked, it was just because the hard-on was there and it felt good: he hadn’t bothered with fantasies.  After all, when it’s unlikely that you’ll survive until your next birthday, what does it matter?

But now, those hormones had returned with a vengeance.  And long before Michaelmas, Harry realised that it was pointless trying to introduce girls into his fantasy life—that merely produced reactions varying from so what? to yucch!  And he was finding that imagining sex with other boys in Hogwarts (and he’d tried them all, from Ron and the rest of his Gryffindor year-mates to Justin and Ernie; for one horribly unsuccessful session he’d even descended to envisioning himself with Draco Malfoy—which was almost as bad as trying Pansy Parkinson!) wasn’t as satisfying as thinking about older men.

Tonight he was toying with the idea of Professor Lupin naked.  He could feel a tingle as blood began to pool in the tissues of his cock.  Whimsically, he added a thick, furry tail and pointed ears to the figure in his mind, and felt a slight surge as his prick thickened further.  Somehow, though, Remus didn’t seem right for tonight, so he banished the werewolf and substituted Bill Weasley.

Bill was a frequent visitor in his night-time visions.  He’d thought Bill was hot since they first met when Harry was fourteen—although at the time, not realising he was gay, Harry had called it ‘cool’.  The imaginary Bill pulled at whatever was holding his ponytail, letting the luxurious wealth of red hair cascade over his bare shoulders, and looked invitingly towards Harry’s mind’s eye.  But despite his cock’s continued expansion, Harry decided Bill had been overused recently, and switched to Oliver Wood.

There was an advantage to imagining Oliver—Harry had actually seen him naked in the Quidditch showers.  (Of course, between the steam and Harry’s vision with his glasses off, this was not as much of an advantage as it might have been.)  His fantasy Oliver began to run his hands up and down his body and said, in his deliciously warm Scots burr, ‘Come here, handsome.’  But before Harry could add himself to the picture, Bill Weasley returned and grabbed Oliver in a close embrace.  They began to kiss, and Harry could occasionally see their tongues as they duelled.  He could also see the glistening of pre-cum as their erections rubbed together.

This was serious wanking material, and by this time, Harry’s own erection demanded attention.  It had got painfully wrapped in Harry’s pyjama trousers, and he hurried to free it and push the trousers down towards his knees.  At the same time he opened up the pyjama jacket, leaving himself bare from mid-thigh to shoulder.  He began a gentle stroke: one delicate finger tip on the underside of his cock.  Meanwhile, Oliver’s hands explored Bill’s back, and began to massage his beautiful bum.

Bill broke the kiss, and began to nibble his way along Oliver’s chin line and down his throat, headed for the nipples.  Harry responded by placing his fist around his erection and using strokes that brought him up to the inflamed head to collect crystalline drops of his pre-cum and spread them along his shaft.  As Bill licked and nipped at Oliver’s hardened nipples, Harry’s hand sped up.  He was feeling close to climax, so his fantasy Bill sped right past Oliver’s navel, and after only one long lap of his tongue from base to tip of Oliver’s rod, seized the whole thing in his mouth.

Oliver responded by burying his fingers in the masses of Bill’s flaming hair and leisurely beginning to pump his hips in time to Bill’s sucking.  As Harry’s time drew closer, Oliver began fucking Bill’s face in earnest.  Suddenly Oliver froze, dragging Bill’s face in until his nose was smashed up against the Keeper’s pubes; then Oliver’s buttocks started the uncontrollable spasms of orgasm.

Harry joined him.  His first shot of cum reached almost to his collarbone (a new record for him); the rest had shorter trajectories until he was squeezing out a few drops that dribbled across his clutching fingers on their way to his pubic bush.  Mission accomplished, his vision was dismissed, leaving poor unsatisfied Bill Weasley to his own fate until called forth for Harry’s concupiscent purposes at another time.  A quick clean-up charm and Harry rearranged his pyjamas and fell straight to sleep.

*****

Harry woke with a start.  The curtains of his bed had been pulled back, and a man was standing next to it.  Moonlight flooded his body but left his head in shadow.  Harry could tell his hair was dark, and he got an impression of unruliness, but could make nothing of the man’s features.  His features, though, were about the last thing on Harry’s mind—primarily, he noticed that the man was naked, and highly aroused.  More dark hair surrounded his erection and formed a narrow trail up to his navel.  The man was slim, but his muscles weren’t highly defined: a body much like the one Harry had developed.  The strangest part of the whole thing was that Harry wasn’t frightened or even curious about the man’s sudden appearance.  What he was was as hard as he had ever been.

The man climbed into Harry’s bed, lying along Harry’s right side so that his erection was rubbing against Harry’s naked flank.  __What happened to my pyjamas?__ flashed briefly through Harry’s mind, but then his mouth was captured by the other’s lips and the thought escaped him.  He began to respond to the man’s kisses, and soon felt the other’s tongue pressing against his lips, demanding entrance.  He opened his mouth; the tongue immediately took possession, searching every corner, covering Harry’s teeth, the inside of his cheeks, the roof of his mouth, and wrestling with his own tongue.  Harry responded in kind, drinking in the sharp flavour of the man’s mouth, mint-cool in contrast to the heat of his breath.  He pushed back, returning the battle to the other’s mouth, then yielding again.

In a moment when they paused for breath, Harry was startled to see that the curtains on his left were now pulled open as well.  Again a man stood by his bed; again his head was in shadow though the rest of him was clear to see in the moonlight.  Again there was apparently unruly dark hair, and there was certainly again a large, leaking, rigid cock as the focal point of his nude body.  There were differences: the second man’s hair was longer, as for that matter so was his prick; his muscles were somewhat bulkier, and there was a scattering of hair across his chest.

‘Hello, Jamie,’ said the new figure.  ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten how to share your toys.’

‘Wonderful!’ responded the first man.  ‘I didn’t know if you’d be able to make it.  It’s so good to see you again.’

They leaned towards each other over Harry’s recumbent body, and began to kiss.  The sounds they made as their tongues fought and their breaths caught were erotic enough to keep Harry hard and distracted from the fact that he was being totally neglected.  But when a long, glittering string of pre-cum landed on his hipbone, it brought with it a stab of jealousy.  __Whose bed is this, anyway?__ he thought.  _It’s about time someone started paying attention to_ _****me****._   With that, he reached out to either side and grabbed a handful of hot, dripping cock.

The men broke apart.  ‘I’d almost forgotten what we came for,’ said the one called Jamie, lying down again next to Harry.

‘Ah, yes,’ replied the other.  ‘The Boy Who Came.  Or rather, Will Come.’

‘If we get back to business.’  Jamie put his hand on Harry’s belly and began tickling his navel as the second man lay down on Harry’s left.  He lifted Harry’s hand and sucked his little finger into his mouth.

Harry closed his eyes and surrendered himself to sensation.  Somehow he knew that nothing was required of him but to lie back and enjoy whatever his visitors did.

Jamie brought his mouth to Harry’s jawline and planted tender kisses from his chin to his ear.  He paused to nibble at Harry’s earlobe and breathe hotly in his ear, ‘You’re so beautiful.’  Then he moved to Harry’s throat and kissed and licked his way down to the collarbone.  He paused to draw a line with his finger from the chin to the hollow at the centre, and Harry involuntarily arched his neck to maximize the length of the line.

In the meantime, the second man was working through Harry’s fingers, sucking them, twining his tongue around them, working each as though it were a miniscule cock.  He was up to Harry’s thumb, and was using his own thumb to trace random patterns on Harry’s palm.

They worked on with mouths and fingers, covering (Harry thought) every square inch of skin he had.  Wrists and elbows, armpits, nipples, and navel.  But just as they got to his groin, where his hard-on throbbed with the beat of his heart as he anticipated their attentions, the men switched positions and began again with his toes.  Harry would have screamed with frustration except that he didn’t seem to be capable of vocalization.  Insteps, ankles, knees, thighs: __Come on now, there’s no place else for you to go!__   But he was wrong.

Each of the men took one of Harry’s knees and drew it up to his chest, then moved Harry’s hand to hold it in place.  Harry had never felt quite so exposed.  Then, as Jamie moved over to put himself between Harry’s legs, Harry realised what was next.  He just had time for a horrified thought, __Am I clean enough?__ before the point of Jamie’s tongue began probing at his clutched sphincter.  The sensations were incredible, but Harry didn’t feel he’d ever relax.

After a few moments, Jamie apparently came to the same conclusion.  He sat up, then moved back to his original position.  But as Harry stretched out his legs, his second visitor dove in.  With no preliminaries, he swallowed Harry’s cock all the way to the root.  Harry shuddered with the undreamt-of pleasure.  Well, he’d dreamt, but, it would seem, not hard enough.  This was several orders of magnitude better than wanking, and he’d thought wanking felt pretty bloody brilliant.  He barely had enough brain cells left to hear Jamie say, ‘Don’t let him come now.’

As the suction eased and the man’s mouth moved slowly and teasingly off his prick, Harry saw that Jamie was moving back between his legs; but now he held Harry’s wand in his hand.  The two men brought Harry’s legs up again, and Jamie touched the tip of the wand to Harry’s anus.  ‘ _Lubrilaxi!_ ’ he said, and Harry could feel the tense muscles easing up.  Jamie easily slid a finger in, then a second, and for the first time ever Harry felt a touch on his prostate.  _Bloody hell!_ he thought.  _Where have you been all my life?_

While he was distracted, the second man moved behind Jamie, who passed the wand over his shoulder.  Harry heard ‘ _Lubrilaxi!_ ’ again, but felt no different. 

Jamie grabbed one of the pillows and slid it under Harry’s arse.  He moved in closer.  He took his own cock in one hand and placed the tip just at Harry’s opening.  Then he looked at Harry.  ‘Do you want this?’ he asked.

Harry nodded vigourously.  Seventeen years, he felt, was long enough to be a virgin.  He was as ready as he could imagine being.

Jamie gave a little push, and the head of his cock began slowly to sheathe itself in Harry’s passage.  He kept the pressure steady, telling Harry to let him know if it hurt too much.  _Well, yes,_ Harry thought, _it’s uncomfortable; but I’ve had worse going the other way.  I can take this, especially if it’s going to feel good la—_   Just then, the second man shoved himself up Jamie’s arse, causing Jamie’s prick hit to Harry’s prostate sharply.  Stars went off in Harry’s head.  _Feel good, my foot,_ thought Harry.  _Bloody brilliant is more like it._   Jamie took up a slow rhythm, in and out as if he could go on forever.  And he caught Harry’s button more often than not.  Even when he missed, though, Harry loved the feeling of fullness, of completion.

‘Faster,’ the second man grunted impatiently.

‘Are you ready for more?’ Jamie asked Harry.

Harry nodded.  He wanted whatever they could give him.  As the second man apparently took over the timing and the force of the thrusts, Jamie’s cock seemed to reach new areas of Harry’s insides.  _Harder, deeper,_ Harry said to himself.  _I want his prick to come out my mouth!_

No longer needing the leverage he’d had when he was controlling the pace, Jamie took one hand and brought it to Harry’s cock.  That added to the sensations coming through his bum was almost too much for Harry.  He began to tremble.

‘Ah, love,’ said Jamie.  ‘I see you’re ready.  Come for me.’

And Harry came.  He’d had orgasms before, of course; but this outshone them like a July sun outshone a flickering match.  It seemed to go on and on, and his vision started to grey out.  He was distantly aware that Jamie, too, was climaxing, filling him with lashings of hot cum; and then he saw the second man throw his head back and cry, ‘Oh, Jamie, you’re so good!’ before fastening his teeth on Jamie’s shoulder.

The two men collapsed on Harry, Jamie keeping just enough weight on his elbows to keep from crushing Harry.  Harry could feel his cum squishing between their chests and abdomens.  The man with the long hair leaned around his friend to kiss Harry.  A long, slow kiss.  Then he moved to the side, to lie next to other two.

Jamie’s shrinking cock slid out of Harry as Jamie said, ‘Oh, Harry; we love you so much, and we’re so proud of you.’  Then he lowered his lips to Harry’s, giving him a kiss that was so soft and sweet it almost brought tears to Harry’s eyes.  He broke the kiss, then rolled off to snuggle against Harry’s other side.  And Harry, safe and sated, slipped into sleep between his two lovers.

*****

Only to be jarred awake by the rattle of the curtain rings as Ron ripped them open.

‘Hey, lazybones!  We’re going to miss breakfast if you don’t hurry!’

Harry grabbed for the bedclothes to cover up his nakedness and maybe somehow disguise the fact that there were two naked men in there with him.  But as he did so, a couple of things came to his notice: he had his pyjamas on, and he was alone in bed.  True, his pyjamas were rather sodden with what he had to assume was his sperm.  And wait—the sunlight that filled the room was coming, as it always did, from the windows over by Neville’s bed.  Moonlight came from the same side: how could he have seen his visitors?  And they’d fallen asleep with the curtains open.  Why had Ron needed to open them again?

Obviously, it had been a dream.  A very _wet_ wet dream.  _Yeah, that was all it was,_ he reflected.  After all, he was pretty sure who his guests had been, and that was impossible, right?

Only, why did his arse feel tender and stretched, and what was that something, now cold and sticky, that was seeping out of it into his pyjama bottoms?

 


End file.
